Wolf
by SilveryKit
Summary: The Companions have been Skyrim's strongest warriors since they were founded. The beastblood shared by the Circle ensures this. However, the blood is now beginning to boil. Action must be taken, sacrifices must be made, or the Companion's leaders may be crushed by their own strength.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I've decided to write two stories at once. This way, when I get stuck on one, I can switch to the other for a while. So, if you're following my stories and one seems to be taking a long time to update, I'm probably working on one of the others.

This chapter ties in to chapters 2 and 3 of _Loner_, another story I wrote based on Skyrim. All rights to Bethesda, except my OC.

**Edited 9/16/2013 to include Kodlak**

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**Part 1**

That day began like any other. Winter was just beginning to end, and most of the townsfolk were bustling around to prepare for the busy season to come. I stood outside, leaning against the strong wall that had protected Whiterun, my home, for so long. The sun glinted off the steel I always wore, bright and blinding to my blue eyes accustomed to the gray clouds of winter. The light was warm and soothing. I wasn't able to catch very many moments like this, so I savored it. I let my pale skin absorb all the warmth it could.

As I'd subconsciously expected, the moment was interrupted by someone calling my name. My role as the unofficial healer of the Companions required me to always be ready to help someone. I opened my eyes to see Ria, a woman small in stature for a Nord, running toward me, a panicked look in her eyes. She'd always been a bit excitable. "Nokira!" she shouted, "Nokira! We need your help! It's urgent!"

"Calm down," I said gently, "What happened?"

"It's Farkas," she told me, panting, "He broke his leg."

I nodded and headed for the doors of Jorrvaskr, the Companion's mead hall. Those who needed my help were usually taken to a small room, stocked with potions and other various objects I used for healing, on the north end of the main hall. This time was no different. Farkas lay on the only bed in the room, propped up on one elbow and looking very frustrated with the situation. He was only covered by a sheet. Upon seeing me, he avoided my gaze, letting his long, dark hair hide his face. I noticed a bruise on the right side of his jaw. It didn't surprise me that he was embarrassed. His twin brother, Vilkas, stood beside the bed with his arms crossed.

"How did this happen?" I asked.

Vilkas' ice-blue eyes were full of worry. "Close the door," he said in his heavy Nordic accent.

I pulled the door shut and began assembling materials to patch up Farkas' leg. Vilkas told me the story as I bustled around. "We were tracking a thief with Aela last night, as you may already know," he told me, "she was the fastest creature I'd ever chased."

"Yeah," I acknowledged as I mixed a healing salve of my own recipe, "the Shadow-Hand. I heard of it from Ria."

"Right," Vilkas continued, "Well, we thought we'd lost her, but then she dropped out of a tree-"

"Right onto Vilkas' back," interrupted Farkas with a smirk, "She had him by the throat with a dagger."

Vilkas pretended to ignore his brother. "That was when Farkas got angry. He...lost control."

I froze. "You don't mean..."

He nodded, a sorrowful look in his eyes. "Luckily Aela and I were able to remain human, but it was difficult. Anyway, we found him in an abandoned mine about a kilometer west of here. He'd been knocked out."

"That explains the bruise on his jaw," I replied, applying my salve to his discolored jaw.

"She smacked me with a stone," said Farkas, wincing at my touch, "I broke my leg on one of the mine's damn booby traps."

"Let's take a look at that, shall we?"

I rolled the sheet back just far enough to expose Farkas' left leg. His shin had an awful bruise draped over a lump the size of my fist. It had been trying to heal wrong.

"I need to set this," I told Farkas, "Bite down on something."

He obediently took the pillow in his teeth.

"Ready?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

With some difficulty, I shoved the bone into place with a horrible snapping sound. Farkas roared into the pillow. His deep, rumbling voice made it almost intimidating. Vilkas cringed.

"Done," I said, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Farkas eyed me with a childish look of hatred. I couldn't help but smile. I gently applied my salve to the bruise and wrapped it in a bandage, using two wooden planks to hold his leg steady as it healed. I smeared a little salve on a silvery-colored scar on my cheek, in a vain attempt to make it fade.

"Vilkas, will you help him get to his room?" I said, wiping my hands on a rag.

He nodded and helped Farkas stand. It was strange to see him only a pair of trousers, as I was so used to seeing him in his steel armor. His muscles were larger than I thought.

I went about cleaning up while Vilkas and Farkas left the room. Kodlak, our Harbinger, had been waiting outside with Aela. She began helping me clean the area while Kodlak stood in the doorway, a sorrowful look on his face.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said quietly, "but it's actually fortunate that he was injured."

"How so?" I asked, confused.

"If that thief hadn't knocked him out with that stone," said Kodlak, "he may have never returned from the hunt."

I paused for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that. Was it really that bad?"

"I'd never seen him turn so easily," Aela sighed, "It always took a bit more effort for him to keep his beastblood under control."

"Is it getting more difficult for you as well?" I asked.

"It is. Vilkas and Skjor are also having trouble, but I fear Farkas may go feral if we don't do something about this soon," she paused for a moment, "This is the first time I've been glad you and Kodlak don't share the beastblood with us."

"I don't regret it," I said.

"We'll do whatever we can," said Kodlak reassuringly, "but for now, it's probably not safe for the Circle to leave Whiterun."

I could tell Aela didn't agree with him, but she wasn't one to question the Harbinger. "I'll tell the others," she said submissively as she left the room.

I turned to Kodlak. "Should we cure them?"

"That seems like the easiest solution," he replied quietly, "but the blood of the wolf has been shared by the Companions for hundreds of years. As much as I dislike it, it's part of our legacy. It's made us stronger... until now."

I thought about this for a moment. "Vilkas would probably be alright with curing himself," I said, "and Farkas has a good chance of following his brother, but Skjor and Aela would be angry at just the mention of it."

"They're the strongest of us; they accepted the beastblood more easily than the rest of us. We may be able to find another way to deal with this."

With that, he left the room. I now had time to think. I felt reassured that Farkas' beastblood would cause his leg to heal quickly, but it worried me to know that blessing came with a curse. Farkas, the slightly dim-witted, yet compassionate and good-natured brute, my shield-brother, would soon go feral if action was not taken. I was determined to keep that from happening, but I had no idea how I could do so.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** (9/16/2013)I updated the previous chapter. It now includes Kodlak.

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**Part 2**

The next couple of weeks seemed calm enough. Farkas' leg healed without difficulty, and the beastblood shared by the Circle seemed to fall quiet enough to stay under control. Farkas and Vilkas still had constant headaches due to suppressing it for so long, but otherwise they were alright. I wasn't sure why, but I couldn't shake a feeling of apprehension. I felt like this was only the calm before the storm.

Kodlak had left Whiterun in search of quiet so he could think about the situation. I was in my room that morning, tying my hair back. I considered attempting to cover the scar on my cheek with makeup, but I decided against it. It was in the shape of a swirled war paint design, so it didn't look that bad, but it reminded me of childhood terror every time I saw it.

My father had come home very drunk one night. I'd been trying to copy the design he painted on his face every day with his red war paint, and I'd thought I did a good job. I'd been eager to show him my achievement. He stumbled in the door looking very angry, but I hoped to cheer him up. I showed him the swirled design on my face. He stared in silence for a moment, then asked me if I'd like to always have that design on my face. I was only a child, so of course I said yes.

He led me to sit by the hearth, gave me a basin of water, and told me to wash the paint off. Reluctantly, I obeyed. He then made me close my eyes and told me, firmly, to stay as still as stone.

He must've heated the iron poker in the fire. The pain was unbearable as he slowly drew the swirled design on my cheek with the red-hot metal. He held my head still, so I could do was whimper through gritted teeth. This memory is the reason I've never learned to work a forge.

A horrible roaring sound snapped me back to the present. For a moment, I was frozen in fear at the sound, then I recognized it as the roar of a werewolf, and it was inside Jorrvaskr. I heard a door slam open, and it came barreling past my room and up the stairs. I immediately knew it was Farkas.

My first instinct was to chase after him, but I caught myself at the top of the stairs, just in time to see him charge outside and vault over Whiterun's wall. What would I do if I found him? He had turned without cause, without warning. He had run away like a wild animal escaping from a trap.

He'd gone feral.

The thought made my heart sink, but I didn't even have time to feel sorrow. Another roar sounded from the courtyard behind Jorrvaskr. This time, I didn't freeze. I burst through the door. The other Companions were nowhere to be seen. My initial reaction to this was to call them cowards, but they were right to flee. Even in his beast form, I recognized Vilkas. He had Aela pinned to the ground. Skjor, an intimidating bald man with a scar over one eye, lay unconscious a few meters away.

Aela had sliced Vilkas' chest with her sword, but he seemed to feel no pain at all, though he was bleeding heavily. He was ready to rip her apart. I had to do something.

"Vilkas!" I shouted at him. I didn't know if he could understand me, but I didn't care.

The sound distracted him. He turned to me and snarled, revealing horrible white fangs. I readied my warhammer, but he was upon me before I could swing it. He swung at me with his clawed hands, missing my face, but slicing my right shoulder as I stumbled to the side.

The force had taken my armor right off, making it easy to rip through the cloth underneath and tear my flesh. The wound was deep. It released blood like a fountain and burned hotter than fires from a dragon's mouth. My vision blurred, and I could no longer stand steadily. It didn't matter, though. Vilkas knocked me to the ground. Through the fog in my eyes, I saw him ready to finish me off. I'd dropped my hammer, and I couldn't see where it was. Blood from his chest dripped onto my shoulder, mixing with mine and making the fires burn hotter. I lacked the energy to scream.

I barely noticed when the beast was thrown off me. A human figure stood over me. I couldn't tell who it was. I didn't care. The fires were spreading throughout my body, consuming my entire being with their heat. It was excruciating...

No...

Actually, it was exhilarating...

The flames invigorated me, made me think clearly. My muscles twitched with energy, and I rose to my feet. I felt taller, stronger. The human was still before me. I saw the truth surrounding it. It was weak.

It was prey. My prey.

It pointed a piece of metal at me. Foolish. Knock it aside. It wanted to fight. I didn't feel like fighting. I was injured. No matter. It would heal.

A wall blocked my way. Stupid. Jump over it. Run. A scent is on the ground. Familiar. Follow it.

Something sharp pokes my side. Small, irritating. Pull it out. Break it. Keep running. Follow the scent.

Scent is getting stronger. Keep running. Run through trees. Scent trail is almost over.

Something is there. He made the scent. He is like me, but he is bigger. He is stronger. He is approaching me. He knows my scent. He will welcome me.

He growls. He is hungry. I am hungry.

There are others. A pack. Enemy? No. Friend. The other welcomes them. Learn their scents. They are hungry. We will hunt. We will kill.


End file.
